It seemed like an eternity before I spotted the black Mercedes driving down the tree-lined street. Alexander opened the car door for me and I ran to his side. After a quick smooch and a honk from a minivan waiting behind us, I climbed into the car and we drove off.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked as we headed through downtown and up a long and winding hill.
“We haven’t been able to spend time exploring town, so I thought I’d take you to a place where we could,” said Alexander.
Alexander continued to motor up the winding road, which was so steep at times that it seemed as if we were driving at a right angle. At the top of the hill sat a bell tower that pointed to the heavens. He turned into the cracked black-topped lot, avoiding several potholes, and parked.
“This is the bell tower I saw when Aunt Libby and I were waiting for you at the art festival!”
The white-painted bell tower was a historic landmark dating back to the 1800s. It was simple in its design with an observation deck and working clock. The paint was chipping and the roof was in disrepair. An oversized sign, placed by an old well a few yards away, apologized to visitors for the inconvenience of the ongoing renovation.
Alexander and I crept on the cracked sidewalk, stepping over plastic sheets and discarded nails. A stick, wedged in the front door, kept it slightly ajar.
Back in Alexander’s company, the Underworld, Dullsville, and the Dungeon were distant memories.
Once inside, we climbed three flights of stairs that led to the bell tower door. I held on to Alexander’s hand and followed him through the door and up a seemingly never-ending spiral staircase. When we finally ascended to the top, we were so high above the town, I thought I could reach out and touch the stars.
An enormous copper bell hung from a cast-iron A-frame beam. I touched the rusty bell, which was weathered and tarnished. There wasn’t a cord or a hired bell ringer in sight. The bell must have weighed a quarter ton, and even if I worked out regularly, I wouldn’t be able to make it ring.
“What if the bell automatically chimes?” I asked Alexander. “It’ll be deafening.”
“Not this antique,” he said, tapping his hand against it. “It hasn’t rung in years. Look.” He showed me a bird’s nest and cobwebs in the cast-iron tresses.
Alexander directed me around the bell. Awaiting us was a lit candelabra, votives, a black lace tablecloth set before the archway. His backpack looked full of goodies.
“This is beautiful!” I hugged him with all my might. I held Alexander’s hand as an anchor as I inched a safe distance to the archway and peered out. I’d spent several nights buried underneath the lowest depths of Hipsterville. This night I’d spend the evening at its highest point.
It was breathtaking. The yellow stars filled the night sky and twinkled as if they were winking at us. We had a panoramic view of Hipsterville. The town looked like a miniature layout found in a retail display window—the kind with tiny lights, trees, and cars.
I leaned against Alexander, my arm wrapped around his waist and his around my shoulder, as we gazed out into the picturesque evening.
“I think I see Aunt Libby’s apartment,” I said, pointing to a group of town houses.
“I think I can see into her window,” he said, teasing me. “Even I don’t have that kind of vision.”
“Well…I think that’s her apartment.”
“But your aunt Libby lives in that part of town,” he said, nodding toward an area of homes a few miles over.
I had no sense of direction.
“Well, I know over there is Main Street. And there’s a park, the train station, and the art museum,” I said, proudly gesturing to obvious places of interest.
“Did I tell you you are the most beautiful tour guide I’ve ever seen?” He picked me up and spun me around and gave me a passionate kiss. When he set me down, not only did the bell tower spin, but so did the town.
I latched on to him until I was steady.
“I wanted to bring you to a place where we could explore all of the town together in one evening,” Alexander remarked.
“This is perfect!” I agreed.
We unpacked our dinner, specially prepared by Jameson. Alexander tore into his grilled steak sandwich and gulped down his red drink while I broke off pieces of French bread. I was so distracted by the beautiful night, fresh air, and my handsome boyfriend that I had little appetite.
I marveled at how much Alexander enjoyed his food.
“Maybe I’ll cook for you someday,” I offered.
“Really? You know how?”
“I’m great at mac and cheese and steak fries. Or I can prepare a mean bowl of cereal.”
Alexander beamed. “I may have to take you up on that.”
Then I rested my head against his lap as he sipped his bottle of thick liquid.
When we’d finished and cleaned up, we leaned against an archway, a safe distance from the ledge but in full view of the town. I sat back, entranced, watching Alexander against the sparkling lights of Hipsterville.
Each time Alexander took me on a date, it was more spectacular than the one before. He spent as much time thinking about and preparing for our dates as he did creating one of his paintings. My heart would skyrocket with the touch of his hand, or an unearthly kiss. At the same time, I was comforted knowing there was no place on earth I’d rather be than by his side.
“I have something for you,” he said, digging into the backpack.
I imagined him presenting me with a small jewelry box—perhaps a ring—or a larger gift, such as a bouquet of dead black roses.
Instead he handed me a flat package, the size of an envelope, neatly wrapped in black lace.
I tore the fabric off the package in wild anticipation of its contents. It was a one-way bus ticket to Dullsville.
“Aren’t you excited?” he asked, beaming as bright as the stars above us.
“Sure…”
He seemed disappointed with my reaction. “I thought it was what you wanted. Jameson and I have already begun packing.”
“It is…But you’re still here. Aunt Libby. And the—”
“The what?”
“Uh…the…summer. Freedom.”
“We’ll spend summer at home. Together.”
“You’re right. It’s the best gift ever,” I said, giving him a kiss.
When I was finally delivered the news I’d been waiting to hear since Alexander left Dullsville, I wasn’t as pleased as I’d imagined. Alexander couldn’t return to Dullsville now, when the Dungeon was on the brink of upheaval. I’d just begun hanging out with Aunt Libby, and I longed to dance and gossip until dawn with Scarlet and Onyx. And I was desperate to know what was going to happen to Jagger and Phoenix. I wasn’t ready for it to end.
Alexander was set on leaving. There wasn’t any way for me to stall the departure. Or perhaps there might be one way…I’d have to play the Coffin Club card.
If I told Alexander about the Dungeon, he’d be forced to have me show him and delay our departure. I was assured of at least a few more days, or rather nights, of us inspecting the underground club. Maybe it was time I told him everything.
“I’ve heard that Devon was right,” I suddenly said. “There is a vampire club here!”
“It’s just a rumor. You believe gossip?” he challenged.
“What if it is true? Don’t you think we should stay and check it out?”
Alexander placed his hand on mine. “Our trip here is over. We both got what we came for. Valentine is out of Dullsville and safely back in Romania. And you and I are together.”
“But—”
“Let’s enjoy our last evening here,” he said. He made sure we did, too, by placing his pink lips on my black ones.
When Alexander playfully nibbled on my neck, it made me think of one more thing.
I pulled back.
“What’s wrong?”
I paused. The night, the view, and Alexander were all gorgeous. I was in the arms of a very
real vampire—one whom I loved and who loved me back. I’d also spent several days surrounded by other vampires. I’d met new friends, like Onyx and Scarlet, and was given a glimpse of their world. It wasn’t ghastly or deadly after all. I wondered if several days were in fact enough for me when I could be living in it for eternity.
And if I were to be turned, what a romantic time and place to have it done. But really…was I ready?
“Nothing’s wrong,” I finally answered. “I was just wondering.”
“About what?”
“About me…becoming like you.”
He pulled back and appeared cross.
“I’m just saying. You’re here, I’m here, the moon is full.”
“Really. It’s that easy for you?” he pressed skeptically.
“I think you think I won’t be able to handle it.”
“You have a romantic view of my world. Probably like I do of yours.”
“But I know more about your world than you think.”
“I’m not your typical vampire….”
“You’re not typical in any way. You are one of a kind. It’s just that…I want you to consider me as part of your world.”
“I do already. From the moment I met you.”
Alexander was dreamy, his face framed against the sparkling moonlight.
He was right. I was so concerned with living in another world, I wasn’t appreciating the one we were in together.
I smiled and fell into his arms.
“When you turn me,” I began, “will we have a covenant ceremony? Will we invite friends? Or will you just hold me, on a perfect night like this?”
“Well. All I need to do is start here.” He took my fingers and kissed them, then worked his way up my hand and forearm. My flesh tingled as he continued to kiss up my arm and the nape of my neck. “Then lean in…”
Suddenly Alexander’s eyes turned red and he looked away. “It’s time to go,” he said.
“Already? But we just got here.”
“We’ve been here for hours. It’s getting late,” he said.
“I didn’t mean to—”
But Alexander had already slung his backpack over his shoulder and taken my hand. “I have a lot to do before I leave.”
“Can I help you pack?” I asked, standing on my tiptoes like a child.
“That won’t be necessary. Jameson is very organized.”
I wasn’t ready for us to separate and there was nothing I could say to change his mind. Before I knew it we were standing outside Aunt Libby’s apartment.
“So when I see you next,” Alexander began, “you’ll be outside the Mansion’s gates, just like the painting.”
“I will.”
Alexander kissed me long. “I’m glad you came to visit me.”
It felt like I needed a crowbar to pry me away. My heart began to sink as he let me go.
I held the bus ticket in my hand. I’d gotten everything I’d come for—to reunite with Alexander and to finally know he was returning to Dullsville.
“Thank you again for my present,” I said.
Alexander waited for me to safely enter my aunt’s apartment. Once inside, I attempted to replace the key ring in my purse. Something sparkled—a long, old-fashioned, golden key. It was the Dungeon skeleton key.
The whole time Alexander had been in Hipsterville, he had been painting a picture of me outside the Mansion. During our separation, he’d been thinking about me living in Dullsville as much as I’d been dreaming about him on my trip.
And now, as I held the skeleton key in my hand, I was thinking about one more place—an empty tomb overtaken by dancing vampires deep below Hipsterville’s new club.
Alexander was right. It was time to leave Hipsterville. But if, in fact, I’d be boarding a Dullsville-bound bus without promise of seeing or visiting a true vampire club again, I had to see the Dungeon one last time.
13
The Dungeon
Aunt Libby’s fifteen-year-old navy blue Schwinn was no sexy Harley Night Rod. The tires were low on air, the handlebar was missing a rubber handle cover, and the back wheel squeaked with every revolution.
I peddled through Hipsterville and coasted down Main Street, steering around discarded trash left over from the festival. I locked the Schwinn to a bicycle rack outside the library, a block south of the vampire club.
I was hoofing down the sidewalk when I heard a motorcycle whizzing through an alleyway. I followed the sound, which seemed to be coming from behind the buildings. I wandered off the beaten path to a lit alleyway outside the Coffin Club, where I spotted a hearse parked next to a Dumpster. The car was familiar—a vintage black Cadillac with a silver bat hood ornament, whitewall tires, skull and crossbones on the left rear panel, and a skeleton hanging on the rearview mirror. The license plate’s county sticker was from Hipsterville and the license plate read: I BITE. It was Jagger’s.
Past the oversized garbage can, I glimpsed a rider with a black helmet parking his bike in the alley. I crept over as silently and quickly as a daddy longlegs. When the rider took off his helmet, he spun around. The shadows blocked him, but I appeared in full view.
Even in the shadows, I could tell he seemed surprised by my arrival.
Phoenix headed toward me, gravely concerned. “There may be trouble inside the bar tonight,” he warned.
“Trouble? That’s my middle name.”
“I’m serious.” He placed his hand firmly on my shoulder. “I strongly suggest you go home.”
He glared down at me, brooding behind his sunglasses, his dark purple and black hair flopping seductively over them.
I had a feeling that if I stayed, there might be more trouble outside the club.
I nodded reluctantly.
Phoenix slipped into the Coffin Club through the back alley entrance. I was surprised he hadn’t parked in the VIP spot and sauntered into the club like a leather-clad prince. Maybe there was going to be a fight inside the club tonight and he wanted to make a quick getaway. I lagged behind him, and as the door began to close I stuck my foot inside the frame. The door was heavy as it slammed on my boot. I limped inside.
I saw purple locks bobbing a few feet ahead of me before they disappeared through a door. I hobbled into the darkness, doing my best to keep up, but kept a safe distance so I would go undetected. All of a sudden I was descending a steep staircase and standing in front of a dungeon door with the spray-painted words DEAD END.
I uncovered my Coffin Club bracelet, poked in my purse for my key chain, and anxiously fumbled for the skeleton key. An equal amount of fear and excitement coursed through my veins. The key shook in my unsteady hand, but I managed after a few tries to stick it into the lock and swiftly turn it.
The door creaked open.
Dragon examined me as I whisked past him and slipped through the slit in the curtain.
The Dungeon was spectacularly alive. Clubsters were buzzing, dancing, tipping back goblets, and partying as if it might be their final time at the club. The devilish and decadent catacomb chambers were packed full of fang-toothed goths, punks, and emos. Perhaps it would be the last time I’d see Scarlet and Onyx, if they forgave me for recognizing them as they were going unnoticed in the mortal world.
But as I milled through the crowd, an even darker mood began to wash over the club like draining blood. I spotted members in white T-shirts with the black word POSSESS, in homage to Jagger’s tattoo, having private meetings, whispering, and passing messages.
“Raven!” I heard a familiar girl’s voice call. It was Onyx. Her hair was styled in long pigtails, with spiderweb bows. She and Scarlet raced over to me.
“I’m so sorry we pretended not to know you at the art festival,” Scarlet apologized.
“Will you ever forgive us?” Onyx asked.
“We have to keep a low profile when we’re in the mortal world,” said Scarlet.
“Me too, but sometimes I forget,” I said.
“I couldn’t acknowledge that we’d met here,
” said Onyx.
“I understand,” I replied. “What was I thinking?”
But I did feel sad. As much as I didn’t fit in Dullsville, I was still me—24-7. I didn’t really know what it meant to hide part of me—or all of me—from others, like Onyx, Scarlet, Jagger, and Alexander did on a daily basis. While Alexander thrived on isolation and Jagger on his menacing ego, they all were truly outsiders. I realized more than ever that for many of the vampires like Scarlet and Onyx, this club was their only lifeline.
“There is so much going on,” Scarlet said, her voice rife with concern.
“Can’t you feel the tension?” Onyx asked. “The club’s about to explode!”
“I know—there’s something I’ve got to tell you…” I began.
“Something’s going down tonight,” Scarlet interrupted.
“It’s going to be a late night tonight, if you need to crash here,” Onyx offered.
“You sleep in the club?” I wondered aloud.
“Scar doesn’t,” Onyx began. “She lives in town. But I hang here when I visit. That’s what’s so cool about the club and why we’re hoping it doesn’t change.
“Would you like to see my crash pad?” Onyx asked proudly. “We can tell you more there—”
“Yes,” I declared enthusiastically.
I was curious to see what kind of sleeping chamber Jagger had set up for the club members to entice them to Hipsterville.
Once again, I was guided through narrow winding catacombs, past chambers, hallowed graves, and tombs. Everything looked familiar, and at the same time I knew I’d never been down these tunnels before. We finally stopped in front of a gray metal sliding door. Onyx opened the portal. Never in my life had I imagined such a vampire dwelling.
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